It was 1976 in the spring
when the birds started to sing.
We built a small wooden ship
to go on our Whitestone trip.
Peter Nukon was in charge
as we built the small barge.
William Nukon was his brother
an’ elder William Itsi was the other.
Old Crow we left behind
an’ we headed up the Porcupine.
Up the river we went
and we camped in a tent.
Long ago stories William Itsi told
back in the days of old.
He told us when he was mauled by a bear
an’ he showed the scar by his ear.
Lots of ducks and geese we ate
an’ William had beaver meat on his plate.
I skinned beavers with my knife
and this was the trip of my life.
It was a holiday I won’t forget
an’ I still talk about it yet.
Another trip we want to plan
up to our ancestors’ land.